Jumping at shadows
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Peter is drugged, and left to wander, alone and scared; as he tries to escape the nightmares chasing him.


"Then you put one bunny ear under the bridge, and pull it tight. Like that, see?" Peter had seen a five year old, sitting alone and crying, and had to help, even if he wasn't in his spidey suit.

The little girl smiled, sniffing as she finally stopped crying. "Thank you."

Peter smiled, and carefully wiped the tears from her little cheeks. "You're welcome. You don't have to worry about not being able to tie your shoes, it took me ages to get it. Just keep trying; you'll get there."

She nodded, as Peter stood from where he'd been kneeling in front of her. "Are you okay to wait for your dad on your own? I can stay with you if you like."

The young girl, smiled at him. "It's okay, I can do it." She waved at him as he left, laughing as Peter waved back.

Peter loved all the cool fights, and exciting adventures, but Aunt May was right; you don't need powers to help people.

Thankfully, he had powers too. Peter stepped into an alley, slinging his backpack off and preparing to get into his suit for patrols, when a group of guys walked towards him from the other end.

It was getting late, and Peter had been delayed for patrols by a decathlon practice, so it was unlikely that they were there to do anything good.

Peter saw something passed between them, as one of them rolled up their sleeve and held up a syringe. Crap. He'd just walked into a drug deal.

He must have let out a breath, or moved, because suddenly all their heads snapped in his direction, spotting him staring at them. Peter didn't know what to do, he wasn't in his suit; if they attacked him, he wouldn't be able to fight back without exposing his abilities. There was no way a normal fifteen year old could fight off three guys on his own.

So, he ran. Picking up his backpack, he bolted down the alley, but apparently they had more friends, and his path was blocked by a huge guy with a very angry expression.

"Where do you think you're going?" Peter stumbled backwards, getting worried. He could take these guys easy, but unless he could find a way to run away, he would have to play weak, and get beaten up. It wasn't looking good.

One of them grabbed him from behind, hands tight on his arms, and dragged him backwards, before throwing him to the ground.

Peter kicked out, sending one of them to the pavement with a grunt, before receiving a kick to the stomach from the other. He groaned and rolled onto his side, where more feet came, pounding down on him over and over as he tried to pull in a breath.

Because of his endurance abilities, and strength, their kicks didn't do much more than bruise his skin, and leave him winded, but that was before one of the guys pulled out a syringe.

"Have a good trip, kid. Maybe next time stay out of our business." Peter looked up in time to see the needle arc down towards him, crying out in pain as it jabbed into his arm.

The plunger was pushed all the way down, before he received one last kick to the face, making his face snap backwards. His head spun, and he tasted blood flood his mouth as his lip stung.

He was still trying to blink his sudden double vision away, when his assailants ran off.

Peter hissed in pain, as he brought a hand to the needle, pulling it out of his arm with a grunt. It was empty, and whatever it had inside it was now in him.

He needed to get help.

The only thing wrong with his plan, was that drugs had a way of making you forget everything.

….

Peters thoughts were really hard to hold on to. They were like smoke, unable to form anything solid, or tangible. Where was he? Why did his arm hurt?

He was walking. And he had his backpack on. His face was sore, and his mouth tasted funny.

Peter kept walking, shaking all over. His feet were taking him down a familiar street. He thought it was familiar. Maybe. Why did he have a headache?

His heart beat so fast, and he thought he could hear someone talking. But maybe they weren't words, maybe they were…sounds like enguines, like turbines, and laughter. Then the words came.

"Hey Pedro."

Peter jumped backwards, head whipping around to try and find the voice. He knew that voice.

People stared at him as he walked past; their faces scrunching up in disapproval, or twisting into concern.

Something touched his arm, and he pulled back, jumping away from the person that had bumped into him.

They scowled at him. "Hey, what's your problem, man?"

Peter kept walking. His feet knew where to go.

"You thought you could send me away, and I wouldn't find you?" It was the voice again, right behind Peters shoulder, and he cried out, running away from it, as he shoved people in his way.

It laughed, close to his ear. "Go ahead and run, Pedro. I'll just keep finding you."

People were getting mad that Peter was shoving his way past them, but he barely paused at their shouts and insults. He had to get away. He was so close.

Peter kept running, his chest heaving, until his instincts led him to a tower, and he pushed his way through the doors. Why was he there?

Someone was there, inside, and said hello.

"Peter, are you okay? What happened to your lip?"

It was the lady at the desk, Peter thought her name might be Heather. She was nice, she talked to him whenever he came in. Her dark hair was so soft on her shoulders, and Peter reached out a hand to touch it.

She watched him carefully, confused, and lifted her own hand to trace over the blood drying from his split lip. "Did you get beaten up?"

Her hair was amazing, it felt so strange under Peters fingers; so soft, and although it was brown, it had other colours in it too, like red, and gold.

When she didn't get a response, she tried again, more concerned. "Peter? Are you here to see Tony?"

Peters eyes floated around until he could find her face. She was so pretty. What had she asked? He watched her mouth move; sounds too slow for him to understand.

"Do I need to call Mr Stark?"

That's who he needed to see. Peter nodded. "Yeah, I need-"

"Peter!" That was Toomes voice again, so loud behind Peter, that he spun around, looking for where the man was hiding. He laughed, and Peter shuffled backwards, pushing Heather with him, as he tried to protect her.

"Do you think she likes swimming? Maybe I'll drop her into the same lake I dropped you in?"

Peter couldn't find him, breaths coming in angry pants, as he tried to help the nice desk lady.

"No! Leave her alone!"

Heather backed away from Peter as he began yelling at the wall, and quickly picked up the phone on her desk, pressing speed dial.

"Happy. Peter's here, but something's wrong. I need you in here right away."

Toomes laughed again, and Peter turned to see him standing on the other side of the glass doors, right there in the street. He was smiling, as he stretched out his mechanical wings and prepared to smash the doors to get through.

"I'm coming Spider-Man!"

Heather still had the phone in her hand. Didn't she know she was in danger? Peter ran towards her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the elevator.

"We have to go!"

"Peter, what are you doing?"

"He's going to kill me! I put him in jail and now he's going to kill me!"

Heather wasn't as strong as Peter, and couldn't do anything but try to keep up as he pulled her into the elevator, and slammed the buttons he needed.

"What are you talking about? Let me go, and we can talk about it!"

The doors slid shut, as the car began to move, and Peter looked at her face. She was scared, and angry, but not because of Tommes; she was scared of him.

He dropped her hand and backed away, slamming into the wall behind him. What had he done?

She lifted a hand to his face, touching his cheek. She was so much like his Aunt May. She looked concerned.

"What's wrong?"

Peter looked down at her wrist, saw the red mark he'd made on her arm where he'd grabbed her. God, he'd hurt her.

Peter let out a whimper, and jumped to the ceiling of the car, sticking to the metal as Heather shrieked, in fright.

His heart beat so fast he thought he might throw up, as he felt the car stop abruptly, ringing assaulting his ears, as Heather pushed the emergency stop. Peter didn't have time, he shoved his hand through the ceiling, and ripped a hole right through the metal, and climbed through.

He needed to get out, he needed to find someone to help him. Toomes was going to kill him, and he was scared.

Climbing up the elevator shaft was hard because it was so dark, but Peter kept going, ignoring the sounds of Heather calling someone. But he couldn't block out the other voice.

"You're dead, kid."

Peter shook his head as he climbed. "No!"

"I'm going to drop another building on you, and I'll watch while you choke and die."

Peter let out a small sob, lifting an arm to wipe over his face, before jumping up another story. He was almost there.

"Leave me alone!"

Finally, he arrived on the right floor; hurriedly prying the metal doors open, and climbing through. 

He could hear them talking, Tony's voice was loud among Steve and Bucky's softer chatter. Bruce was laughing, and Peter ran faster. He had to warn them, he had to get help.

Peter was shaking all over, as he finally saw them, sitting around on couches. How could they not hear Toomes' wing engines? They were so loud.

Peter stumbled into the room, heaving in heavy breaths as they all stood, taking in his ruffled appearance.

Steve stepped forward, lifting his hands in front of him, in concern.

"Whoa, what happened to you? You're shaking." 

Tony came closer too, but Peter didn't like that for some reason. Why were they all coming towards him? The room was so small, they were boxing him in.

Tony frowned, worried. "Aren't you supposed to be on patrols? You're not even in your suit."

Peter looked at them all, slowly pulling his backpack off and checking inside for the suit, trying to think about what he'd been doing. It was all so confusing.

"It's in here." There was something else in there too, it looked like an empty syringe. He put it in there, but...when? Why?

Tony inched closer. Peter looked frozen, staring at his backpack, without so much as a blink, before he suddenly looked up, thrusting his hand out in front of him.

He remembered. "It's for Bruce."

He couldn't remember what it was, or why it was for Bruce, but he gave it to him anyway. The Doctor cautiously took the syringe, and stared at it, before looking at Peter, taking note of his pupils, trembling body, and obvious confusion.

"Where did you get this, Peter? Did someone give it to you?" 

Peter didn't know how to answer, or what the question meant. He frowned and held out his bicep instead. "My arm hurts."

That seemed to answer his question, as Tony and Bruce shared a look, one that Peter didn't like. Bruce's voice was slow and gentle, but Peter couldn't concentrate, because noise was tickling the back of his neck. It was something buzzing. Maybe bees. Or an engine.

"Peter, I think you've been drugged. We need to get you to the med bay, do you understand?" 

Peter turned away from them, looking down the hall. Why was it so noisy?

"Peter?"

Something touched his arm, making Peter turn back around. It was Toomes.

Peter shoved him backwards, hard enough to make him fall to the ground, holding his chest, but when he blinked it was...it was Tony.

"Mr Stark?" 

Where had Toomes gone? He was right there.

Bruce knelt next to Tony, asking if he was okay. Tony coughed, but nodded, looking back at Peter, as Steve and Bucky stepped in front of Tony, protectively .

Steve held his hands out, as if trying to placate him. "Peter? Everything's okay. Let us take you to the med bay."

Peter stood back when they took a step forward, but lifted a hand out to his mentor, who was just getting back to his feet. "I didn't mean to do that! I'm sorry! Toomes was-"

Tony looked confused. "Toomes is in jail, Peter."

Peter's head spun as he shook it, stumbling at the dizziness it caused. "No, he was here. He...I thought you were him."

Bucky came closer, reaching a hand towards Peter, and gently taking his arm. "You've been drugged, and you're confused. We're going to help you. Just stay calm."

Peter stared at his gentle fingers on his arm. Why were they silver? Arms weren't supposed to look like that. He looked up, too see who it was, only to see those horrible green eyes, back from his nightmares.

Peter let out a panicked yell, and shoved the figure backwards, harder than before; watching as Toomes flew backwards, and crashed over the coffee table.

Steve was yelling. "Hey! Stop that!" Peters attention snapped back to his face, but he didn't look angry. His expression was open, as if asking Peter to trust him. He always looked so trusting. Peter panted, as Bucky...he'd shoved Bucky, not Toomes, picked himself up from the broken scraps of wood.

Steve's voice was loud. "There are no bad guys here, Peter. You need to let us help you."

Peter was getting mad. What game were they playing?

"No! Don't touch me!" He pulled back.

Tony was worried, his eyebrows creased and he looked sad. "Come on, kiddo. You can trust us."

Peter looked to all their faces, and let out sob, words cracking. "You keep turning into him. Why do you keep turning into him?"

Steve took a step closer, hands still raised, and Peter's fear boiled over into anger again.

"Toomes isn't here. I'm going to take you to the med bay now and everything's going to be okay. I promise."

Peter was about to protest again, when the noises behind him got louder, and he turned to watch as Toomes stormed towards him down the hallway, a sick smile on his face.

Peter took a halting step backwards, right into Steve's arms; and he screamed as they encircled him.

"Stop! Let me go! He's coming!"

Tony was shouting too. "Don't hurt him!" But Peter didn't know if he was talking to him, Steve, or Toomes.

Peter bucked and kicked against Steve, pulling at his arms to try and get him to let him go, but his arms were like iron, and he couldn't break their hold.

"Get him to the med bay!" Bruce's voice was swallowed up by Peters screams, and pleads, as Steve dragged the teenager out of the room and down the hall to that familiar array of beds and medical equipment.

"Please! Let me go! He's trying to kill me!"

Peter did everything he could to break free, as his shoes scuffed against the floor, before Bucky came and lifted them, holding them tight as that he couldn't kick anymore. His throat was becoming raw from his panicked screams, but he didn't stop.

They carried him over to the bed that Bruce directed them to, and Peter could do nothing but fight their hold, as Bruce pulled out the reinforced restraints he'd made for situations such as these.

Tony stood back, hand over his mouth, as he watched Peter sob and pull at Steve and Bucky's hands as they held him down.

Steve grunted with the effort, as his hands pressed harder against Peters chest, and arms. He didn't want to hurt him, but the kid was strong. "I'm sorry Peter, Im sorry. It'll be okay. I promise, we'll fix this."

Bruce worked as quick as he could, placing the cuffs around Peters wrists and ankles, before pulling a strap over his chest, and buckling it tight.

Bucky and Steve reluctantly let go, watching with sad eyes, as Peter still struggled, tears running down his face.

Bruce panted, and took Peters bag from Tony, who'd brought it from the other room.

"I need to test this syringe, to see what he was injected with. Try to keep him calm, and do not let him out. No matter what he says."

Tony looked almost shell shocked, staring at Peter, with wet eyes. Bruce paused, turning back to him to place a hand on his shoulder, and an apologetic smile. "I know it's hard, but once I figure out what's causing this, I can treat it. Try talking to him, try to get him to calm down."

Tony nodded, and wiped his eyes, going to stand next to Peter as he writhed under the tight straps holding him down.

"Hey, kiddo."

Peter sobbed, arching his back as much as he could, and tossing his head on the pillow. His voice was strained. "Get away from me. Please." 

Tony's heart ached, as he carefully took one of Peters hands. Peter let out a whimper at his touch, and tried to pull away, but Tony held tight.

"Peter, I know you're scared. But he's not here. He can't hurt you."

Steve put his arm around Tony's shoulders, as Peter continued to cry, refusing to even look at the Avengers around him.

"He'll be okay. Bruce will fix it."

Tears continued to fall, trailing down Peters temples to wet the pillow, as his chest heaved in panic.

"I can't watch this."

Tony wanted to be there for Peter, but if he was the one making Peter so scared, there wasn't much he could do. Bucky nodded to the two, as he stood watch by Peters bed; making sure the kid was safe, as Steve led Tony out to the hall to wait on news from Bruce.

…..

Peter's head hurt sooo bad. He'd never been hungover before, but given what he'd heard about them, he guessed what he was experiencing was pretty close.

He let out a groan, as he lifted a hand to cover his eyes, only to find his hand was stuck.

"Peter?" Tony sounded eager, but when Peter opened his eyes, the first thing he looked at was his hand, to see why he couldn't move it.

"Why am I tied down?" Peter frowned, when he found his voice to be nothing but a hoarse whisper.

Tony looked up to Bruce, making Peter realise he was there. The Doctor came forward with a penlight, making Peter flinch away, and tug at his restraints in irritation.

"The drug will likely stay in your system for a while longer, but thankfully it seems the high, and the worst of the effects, are over."

Bruce began untying the restraints, and Tony quickly joined in. Peter was relieved to have them off, but was quickly distracted by the sight of his hands. His knuckles were lightly bandaged, gauze carefully wrapped around his hands. He didn't remember why.

"What happened?"

Tony nodded towards the teenager, looking apologetic; though none of it was his fault.

"You were drugged. We don't know who by yet, but Steve and Bucky are trying to use security cameras in the city to find out. You came here, freaking out, hallucinating and convinced that Toomes was following you. You tried to save Heather, the receptionist downstairs, but escaped the elevator before making it more than a floor."

He pointed to Peters hands. "You roughed up your hands pretty good, punching your way out."

Peter thought of Heather, and how nice she was to him whenever he visited. "Is she okay?"

Tony nodded. "Shaken up but fine. She knows it wasn't your fault; she said she's going to visit you when you feel better."

He didn't continue, but Peter knew that wasn't all he'd done. He searched his mind, through the guilt he felt for hurting the innocent woman, and found more guilt. His eyes widened as he looked at Tony.

"I pushed you. Oh my god, I hit you. Mr Stark, I'm so sorry!"

Tony shook his head. "I'm fine, it wasn't your fault."

"But I-"

Bruce interrupted, expression gentle. "I checked him over, Peter. You didn't even leave a bruise, he was just winded that's all. And worried about you."

Peters mind was fitting the puzzle pieces together, now that the drug wasn't messing with it, and he covered his face with his hands. "Oh god. I threw Bucky into a table. I hit Steve."

Tony went to place a hand on Peters shoulder, only to hesitate. He took his hand back, not knowing if Peter would want him to touch him, and spoke instead.

"They're both okay; you know how tough they are. We were all just worried about you."

Peter took his hands away from his face, and sat up, lunging at Tony and wrapping him in a hug; burying his face in Tony's chest.

"I'm so sorry I pushed you, I was just so scared."

Tony smiled, hugging the kid back. "It's okay, I forgive you."

Peter gave him another, very gentle, squeeze, before releasing him and wrapping Bruce in a hug instead.

"Thanks for saving me."

Bruce patted his back, hugging the teenager with a smile. "Well, you're the one that brought me the syringe so I could find out what you were given. Even doped up and hallucinating, you're still as smart as ever."

Tony ruffled the kids hair, proud. "That's my boy."


End file.
